There is a space that stretches between despair and joy. A painful moment. Of waiting. Of uncertainty. Of fear and grief and doubt tinged with the smallest glimmer of light. For Christians in the midst of Holy Week, we stand in that space today.
Two thousand years ago, the early followers of Jesus waited all through this day after his death. They held onto a little bit of hope. It wasn’t hope that they would see him again. They didn’t imagine the resurrection. They simply hoped that they could tend to his body, memorialize his teaching, honor the gift he had given them through his presence.
Hope is that space in between the already and the not yet. That space of longing for what is too good to fully believe and yet too true to fully reject. That space of pain tethered to promise. That space of grief linked ever so faintly to the thought of reunion.
Hope on Holy Saturday
Many days on this earth are like Holy Saturday. Stretched between pain and possibility. Fragile with the question of whether things could ever get better. Fraught with waiting. Today we are invited into that fraught and fragile place.
Today is not a day to rejoice. But it is a day to hope.
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